In the process of attempting to study Monday night, I discovered
the sport to beat all sports.
This sport takes speed, skill and all the cunning you can
muster. Deception is necessary and losing is not an option.
It is called library hopping. It sounds lame, but once you play
you will understand what it takes to be one of the elite.
As I walked up the steps of Powell Library on Monday with my
laptop in one hand and my rock “˜n’ roll history book in
the other, I heard 11 tolls of the bell and immediately watched as
mass hordes of students were kicked out of the second floor and
stampeded into the main study hall.
What followed was the most hectic scramble of bodies I’ve
seen since they had taquitos in the dining hall.
There were students patrolling the aisles looking for empty
chairs like lions stalking antelope. People were diving into
cubicles as if every empty chair had a wad of cash stashed
underneath. You’d think half the people there were on the
basketball team the way they were boxing out.
For one very short second, I thought I had myself a coveted
couch spot and took half a step before I realized about 15 people
were beating me to it. I had no chance.
However, this was my first time playing. Nobody’s great
right away. I had just gotten beat by a bunch of library veterans
and I was a green rookie just called up to the bigs.
I thought the clock had expired and I was just outta luck, but I
was wrong again. This was only the beginning.
After walking out of Powell dejectedly with a few others, I
decided to go another round. This time the stakes were higher. We
were headed for the law library.
We found a mid-sized room with comfortable chairs and wireless
Internet. There was only one student there. Almost too good to be
true. Compared with the mass hysteria that was Powell, this was
looking pretty satisfactory.
I sat down and plugged in some Chuck Berry. We thought we had
beaten the system.
Wrong.
After about 45 minutes of studying up on The Beach Boys and Bob
Dylan, I saw a middle-aged CSO stroll into the room. If I had ever
seen a smirk, this was it. Surprisingly, he didn’t say
anything and just kept walking.
Maybe it was the stank eye I shot him that made him keep
walking. Whatever it was, it didn’t work.
This time he came from the side entrance ““ a strategic
move none of us saw coming.
He asked if we were law students. We weren’t. I thought
about saying yes, but I don’t look my age even when I
don’t shave, and passing as a grad student wasn’t going
to happen. The other guy in the room, who looked about 17, was a
law student and had an ID to prove it.
Maybe our page-turning and paper-shuffling were too noisy. Maybe
our collective intellect just wasn’t enough to merit us being
there. Or maybe we just smelled bad, I’ll never know.
He told us we had to leave. He pointed to the sign: “This
room is for use only by UCLA law students and faculty.”
Evidently we didn’t game-plan for trickeration. We were
0-2.
Heading back home after taking a trip around campus that would
wear out Lewis and Clark, I gave up on the night. I had failed in
my first library-hopping experience. I’ll be back in the big
leagues someday though.
It’s not over till the fat lady sings, and at my midterm
yesterday I heard no Big Mama Thornton.
E-mail Feder at jfeder@media.ucla.edu.